Puslapio vaizdai
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Impossible! One might as well
Attempt comparison of creeds;
Or fill that huge Malayan shell

With these half-dozen Indian beads.

Moreover, add that every one

So well exalts his pet distress,
'Tis-Give to all, or give to none,
If you'd avoid invidiousness.
Your case, I feel, is sad as A.'s,
The same applies to B.'s and C.'s;

By my selection I should raise
An alphabet of rivalries;

And life is short, -I see you look
At yonder dish, a priceless bit;
You'll find it etched in Jacquemart's book,
They say that Raphael painted it ;-

And life is short, you understand;
So, if I only hold you out

An open though an empty hand,

Why, you'll forgive me, I've no doubt.

Nay, do not rise. You seem amused;

One can but be consistent, Sir! 'Twas on these grounds I just refused Some gushing lady-almoner,

K

Believe me, on these very grounds.

Good-bye, then. Ah, a rarity! That cost me quite three hundred pounds,That Dürer figure,-"Charity."

LAISSEZ FAIRE.

"Prophete rechts, Prophete links,

Das Weltkind in der Mitten."

GOETHE'S Diné zu Coblenz.

O left, here's

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B., half-Communist,

Who talks a chastened treason,

And C., a something-else in "ist,"
Harangues, to right, on Reason.

B., from his "tribune," fulminates
At Throne and Constitution,
Nay, with the walnuts, advocates
Reform by revolution;

While C.'s peculiar coterie
Have now in full rehearsal
Some patent new Philosophy
To make doubt universal.

And yet-Why not? If zealots burn,
Their zeal has not affected

My taste for salmon and Sauterne,
Or I might have objected :-

Friend B., the argument you choose
Has been by France refuted;
And C., mon cher, your novel views
Are just Tom Paine, diluted;

There 's but one creed, -that's Laissez faire;
Behold its mild apostle !

My dear, declamatory pair,
Although you shout and jostle,

Not your ephemeral hands, nor mine,
Time's Gordian knots shall sunder,-
Will. laid three casks of this old wine :
Who 'll drink the last, I wonder ?

TO Q. H. F.

SUGGESTED BY A CHAPTER IN THEODORE MARTIN'S

"HORACE."

("ANCIENT CLASSICS FOR ENGLISH READERS.")

ORATIUS FLACCUS, в.с. 8,"

There's not a doubt about the date,

You're dead and buried :

As you observed, the seasons roll;

And 'cross the Styx full many a soul
Has Charon ferried,

Since, mourned of men and Muses nine,
They laid you on the Esquiline.

And that was centuries ago !

You'd think we'd learned enough, I know,

To help refine us,

Since last you trod the Sacred Street,

And tacked from mortal fear to meet

The bore Crispinus;

Or, by your cold Digentia, set

The web of winter birding-net.

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